The Gambit Pileup
by MarbleGlove
Summary: the only bank-robbery hostage worse than Arthur is Methos
1. Chapter 1: The Gambit Pileup

Disclaimer: I own neither Highlander nor Inception, neither the characters nor the concepts.

Author's Note: This was originally written as a comment-fic, in response to the prompt: Inception/Highlander, Arthur + Methos, the only bank-robbery hostage worse than Arthur is Methos

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><p><strong>The Gambit Pileup<strong>

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><p>The situation was fucked up from the start.<p>

First of all, Arthur hadn't even been sure he wanted to take the job. His preliminary research on the client had already identified James Karrigan, the bank manager, as an alias and his previous identity as that of a mercenary. Arthur accepted the fact that he was a criminal with a pretty high body count himself, but that didn't mean he didn't have standards, at least as far as his own safety went and he wasn't sure he wanted to trust this guy enough to even accept his money.

So he was admittedly a bit jumpy when he went in to the bank. He felt perfectly justified, however, in assuming that the dozen men with guns who popped up a moment later were after him.

Fuck Han Solo, Arthur shot first. There were twelve men and Arthur got three of them and winged a fourth before he had to dodge for cover.

He got himself up into the ceiling before anyone rounded the corner, and thank god for ceiling panels. He figured he had a pretty good chance of being able to pick them off from here, too. The police presence he could hear approaching was a good sign, too. Nothing like a bunch of policemen milling around to help mess up an assassination job.

It took a certain amount of expertise to wander around in the ceiling without falling through, but one thing the dream industry gave a person was a lot of really weird experience.

He was feeling pretty happy with himself until he heard the demands.

Apparently they weren't after him, at all, it was a fucking stupid bank robbery.

If he had known that to begin with he would have been a good little hostage. They seemed like a pretty professional group and a good bank robbery happened fast and was over fast. Now that he'd shot them up and the police barricade was up, they could be stuck in here for days.

He hoped there was a really good negotiator on staff at the police department because Arthur really didn't want to be up in the ceiling for days and he rather thought he'd lost his chance to be a good little hostage.

At least the bank robbers were professional enough to have a back-up plan when their own job went south. Arthur watched through one of the vent screens.

The injured guy was tending his own wound. Two of the robbers herded their hostages into a group in the center of the main floor where they could be monitored easily. One of them went to create barricades at the front door while another created a barricade across the hallway that Arthur himself had gone down. One stripped the weapons from their dead and took the bodies to an empty office.

The final two, one of whom was definitely the leader, went to the bank manager's office. Arthur wished them luck with that. He was surprised that Karrigan hadn't already emerged to defend his bank himself. His previous mercenary identity had had quite the reputation before he had disappeared.

Arthur was more surprised, however, when the man who was dragged out of the manager's office was decidedly not Karrigan.

It was a lanky kid, and okay he was maybe thirty years old and therefore not a kid, but if anyone deserved to be called a kid, this was it. He was lanky and awkward-looking and sniffed like he had a drippy nose. Arthur was guessing drugs.

And sure enough, "Whoa, are you guys real? Like, really-real? Cause I think I underpaid my dealer. This stuff is awe-some."

Arthur wanted to wince and he was pretty sure the head of the bank robbers really was wincing even though Arthur couldn't see his face from this angle.

"You're the bank manager?" His voice was decidedly dubious.

"Yeah." The-bank-manager-who-was-not-Karrigan said rather dolefully. "My daddy says I need to learn how to work."

The robbers were definitely wincing. So too were the hostages.

Actually, Arthur realized, a couple of the hostages who worked at the bank were looking studiously blank. It wasn't the blank of someone who was embarrassed either, it was the blank of someone who didn't quite know what was going on but was going to go with the flow anyway. In the dream business, you saw that look a lot.

He re-assessed the guy claiming to be the bank manager. He was dressed like a bank manager should be, but the tailoring was off. It wasn't badly tailored: that would have been normal enough, alas. The tailoring was excellent, in fact, but it was working for a different purpose than it should have been. Most bank managers or businessmen of any type dressed to make themselves look fitter and more trim. This guy's suit was cut to hide muscles and weapons. It was a special kind of tailoring that took a special kind of tailor.

"Okay, Mr. Karrigan. We're robbing this bank and you're going to help us into the safe, you got that?" The main robber spoke in a professional manner. He seemed like that kind of guy.

"Sure, man. Call me Kerry." Kerry swayed a bit more. Then he leaned towards the robber despite the fact that the guy already had a grip on his arm and was holding a gun pointed at his gut and stage whispered. "I can't feel my feet." He giggled.

The robber looked almost physically pained and after a moment, holstered his gun again. Clearly Kerry was not going to understand much less fear a physical threat. "Okay, Kerry. What is the code to the vault?"

"The vault?"

"Yes, the vault. Tell me the code." He sounded stern but calm. Arthur was impressed, by both of them really. Whoever Kerry really was, he had managed to get the gun pointed away from him and Arthur would bet a great deal that there wasn't a bit of drugs in his system. And whoever the bank robber was, he was dealing calmly and capably with a whole lot of set-backs. He wondered what Kerry planned to do about the vault code.

"Oh, the _vault code_." Kerry said with sudden understanding. "It's my girlfriend's birthday. You're not supposed to make it a family member's birthday, but Tiffany isn't family. She's my girlfriend." He nodded happily, apparently quite pleased with himself.

"That's very smart of you," the robber said and somehow managed to sound serious. "What is Tiffany's birthday?"

"It's, uh, it's, she was mad at me cause I didn't remember it, so I made it the vault code, I told her because she was just that important to me. She's important to me. Really. I don't care about Rachel at all. You know?"

"When was she mad at you?" There were definitely some gritted teeth in there.

"I _told_ you, it was her birthday!"

Arthur thought was going to choke trying not to laugh at this farce. He wondered how long Kerry could keep this up. Whoever he was outside of the role he was playing now, the robber believed the role and a drug-addled rich-man's son wasn't going to be any help at all. He couldn't be threatened or bribed until he at least managed to come down from the high but that could take a while and would have uncertain results anyway. The longer they stayed in the bank without using whatever their escape route was, the worse their chances of having the escape route still be open.

Eventually they'd have to make a decision on what to do next. Arthur settled in to watch how this whole thing played out.

Which was when his cell phone went off. He managed to refuse the call after a single ring but now they knew where he was and they were shooting at the ceiling at wild and he was crawling as fast as he could but he really didn't want to fall through the ceiling.

The police heared the shots fired and were storming the place so there were more shots and Arthur wasn't sure was actually happy that at least none of the robbers were shooting at the hostages since instead they were shooting at him, or at least trying to.

At least the whole situation was chaotic enough and he'd had the forethought to memorize the bank's blueprints before ever going to the meeting so he was able to sneak out in the confusion. He was impressed again with not-actually-Karrigan since somehow he managed to sneak out, too.

He joined the crowd on the far side of the police tape before checking his cell phone again.

There was a voicemail from Eames and a text message. The text message was a picture of not-actually-Kerry looking more like a grad student than anything.

The voicemail said:

"If you're wondering why no one showed up for your meet and greet, it looks like the client had a really bad night last night. Someone cut his head off, so I don't think this job is going to go through, but I'm sending you a picture of the target just in case you run into him. Cheers."

Yeah, Arthur thought. Normally, he would want to kill Eames for this, because surely this was all his fault, but this time he was just as glad to be able to wipe his hands of the whole mess. He hadn't wanted to work for Karrigan and now that he had seen not-Kerry confound armed bank robbers with nothing but a dazed look, Arthur didn't want to deal with his subconscious defenses either.

It was fucked up from the start.


	2. Chapter 2: Not Everybody Can Be Xanatos

Disclaimer: I own neither Highlander nor Inception, neither the characters nor the concepts.

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><p><strong>Not Everybody Can be Xanatos<strong>

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><p>Methos' immediate reaction to hearing shots fired inside the bank he was currently in the process of robbing was to think that he had been discovered. It was quickly dismissed, however. After all, the shots weren't being made at him, and he was alone in the manager's office.<p>

So the next conclusion is that he's not the only one who felt it was a good day to acquire some ill-gotten gains.

It was a coincident, but such coincidences happened all the time, really. Or rather, statistically speaking, the longer he lived, the more they would happen.

As he first grew older, Methos had made more and more elaborate plans, tightly structured schedules, and specific details. His mastery of such plans had peaked, though, late in his third millennia or thereabout. Since then, the times that called for such plans became increasingly rare.

The world was too rich and full, people too complex and contrary, to ever not throw some surprise his way. It was better to not plan, but instead to go with the flow. Now, rather than plan and manipulate, he mostly made sure he stayed observant of what was around him, self-aware of his own goals and desires, and ready to act when opportunity presented itself.

If he'd had a plan, the addition of a dozen armed robbers would undoubtedly have ruined it. They would almost certainly have ruined Garrik's day if Methos hadn't done that already. But since Methos didn't have a plan, then nothing could be ruined. Instead he just had a few more variables to take into account.

He got on with his own theft, taping away at Karrigan aka Garrik's computer.

He was pretty much done, except for exiting out of the various systems by the time someone finally interrupted him.

"Mr. Karrigan. You're going to tell me the vault code." The guys in masks and with guns sounded just the right combination of professional and menacing. It was a very good effect, completely ruined by the fact that he apparently hadn't done the research to know what the bank manager of this branch actually looked like.

Well, one good rule to going with the flow was to not correct the guys with guns, and allow them to dig themselves into a deep a hole as they wanted. Hopefully none of the actual employees would feel the need to point out their mistake.

But if the robbers were going to be young and dumb, then so too would he. With a side order of high-as-a-kite just to make sure no one thought they could torture him for anything useful.

"Whoa," Methos channeled one of his more idiotic acquaintances from the sixties. "Are you guys real? Like, really-real? Cause I think I underpaid my dealer. This stuff is awe-some."

"You're the bank manager?" The poor robber sounded disgusted rather than suspicious. Young and dumb. There was a difference between having an elaborate plan and being suitably prepared. The robber apparently had one but was not the other. Methos was the opposite.

"Yeah." Methos nodded mournfully. "My daddy says I need to learn how to work."

And okay, it was a terrible stereotype, of the young, dumb, and rich, but this kind of situation was just what stereotypes were for, and the robbers appeared to be swallowing it hook, line and sinker.

If they'd caught him out, he'd planned to give them the vault code and allow them to recruit him. Since they didn't, they probably weren't worth being recruited by.

The executive assistant who had looked over his documents earlier before ever allowing him to "wait" in Mr. Karrigan's office was watching this all from the huddle of hostages with the utterly blank face of an experienced executive assistant and the others were taking their cue from her.

Excellent. He loved good executive assistants. Too bad she was wearing a wedding ring.

So, now he was fine, the hostages were fine, and whoever it was that was peering down at them from the ceiling was fine. The robbers were not fine, since their twelve man team was now an eight man team, but they seemed professional enough. And it was time to see what their plan was.

The fact that Methos didn't really make plans anymore wasn't to say that he didn't admire a good plot when he saw one.

Garrik (or more recently Karrigan) had been a good plotter.

Methos had been impressed by the man. Garrik reminded him of a younger Kronos. Plotting and clever. A smart man and a vicious one with just the right balance of curiosity and caution that could help an immortal survive.

Unfortunately, in addition to being smart, ruthless, curious, and cautious, an immortal had to be lucky, too. Garrik's luck had run out when he'd found Adam Pierson and thought he was young and manipulatable.

Methos figured out the progression of events from a combination of his own investigation, memories carried in Garrik's quickening, and records left on Garrik's computer.

Garrik had discovered the Dream technology when he'd been a mercenary and had recognized it as the weapon it was. He had known he needed to know more about it and how it might interact with an immortal's quickening, but had been too cautious to experiment on himself.

So he'd found a young immortal, or at least who he had thought was a young immortal, with knowledge that he wanted (about the Watchers, oddly enough), and begun making the connections needed to order an extraction on the immortal. It was supposed to be a Xanatos Gambit, Methos assumed.

If the extraction went well and there was nothing unusual, then Garrik would have the information about the Watcher's that he wanted. Part of being cautious was that most older immortals were aware of the Watchers to a certain degree because an immortal didn't survive for very long if they didn't know when they were being followed, but they also didn't talk about it, because an immortal also didn't live very long if they picked unnecessary fights - Watchers didn't interfere because if they did, then those fights would not longer be unnecessary.

If the extraction went poorly, then Garrik would learn how and why it didn't work.

It was a plan that Methos could appreciate and he kind of wanted to arrange something similar himself. But if there was one thing Methos had learned in his long life, it was that events never went true to plan. Never. The more complicated the plan, the more likely it was to fail utterly. The more scenarios he thought he had accounted for, the more likely he was to have missed an important one.

Garrik had certainly missed an important one, not expecting an older immortal to be hiding as a younger immortal. And Methos was no more willing to be the experimental subject than Garrik had been, and he didn't like other immortals researching him and his role with the Watchers.

Methos didn't make elaborate plans any more. Instead, he watched and waited for events to arrange themselves in such a way that he could take advantage. He was a master at improvisation.

Like Garrik, Methos had recognized dream technology as an important weapon to be aware of, and he recognized his own need to know more.

Unlike Garrik, Methos had waited to see how the information he wanted might be presented to him.

And lo, Methos had killed the immortal who had used mortals to stalk young Adam, and had acquired all the information and records regarding dream technology that Garrik had worked so diligently to acquire, plus enough specific bank information to transfer a few large accounts from Garrik's name to his own next identity.

It was a win-win situation for Methos; less so for Garrik.

The question of how it would turn out for the robbers still needed to be answered. They seemed to be even less aware of the situation than Garrik had been. He smiled with a bit of genuine delight as he swayed towards the robber.

"Hi."

"Okay, Mr. Karrigan. We're robbing this bank and you're going to help us into the safe, you got that?"

"Sure, man. Call me Kerry." He was pretty sure his eyes were sparkling at this point, although he made sure to keep his vision unfocused. It enhanced the impression that he was high and also allowed him to keep track of the rest of the room.

The hostages were staying silent and unobtrusive, following Methos' own technique of waiting for their opportunity.

The guy in the ceiling seemed to be cracking up, but still watching with a gun likely at hand.

And the police outside were congregating and looked to have established themselves in an organized fashion.

And the robbers seemed unsure of how to react to Methos spiking their plan to question the manager. When confronted with someone like the Kerry that Methos was playing at the moment, they really should have fallen back to a different plan.

He wondered who, if anyone here, knew about the secret exit that Garrik had created for his own use and that Methos hoped to use himself to avoid the police. He didn't think the robbers did, but ceiling-guy might. If Methos got caught by the police then he might have to use his new ill-gotten gains and his new felony reputation to start off his next identity as a criminal master mind. MacLeod would not approve but Amanda would probably get a kick out of it. But if he ran into ceiling guy in the escape passage, then there might be a more elegant introduction to high crime. And if he didn't, then he could always continue on as he had was.

He'd just have to see what happened next. Life was fun. He giggled a bit and whispered to the robber in front of him, "I can't feel my feet."


End file.
